


Domestic Bliss

by thinkinghardhardlythinking



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:22:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27026533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkinghardhardlythinking/pseuds/thinkinghardhardlythinking
Summary: Fluffy story about Sam and Dean helping the Reader with chores and errands.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Domestic Bliss

“Urgh! This place is a mess……and we’re nearly out of food….” You said, looking around your living room at the empty pizza boxes and semi crushed beer cans, they boys’ discarded shoes strewn about the place, debris from the last few days filling every surface and creating haphazard piles of stuff across the floor.

“How we doin’ for beer?” Asked Dean, clearly trying to get a handle on just how serious the lack of supplies situation was.

“Running low.”

“Well….OK…so we’ll do a supply run. And we’ll tidy.” Sam said. He was leaning back, almost into the body of the couch. He looked relaxed to the point of indolence.

The boys had come for a visit and you’d been having a great time. Staying up late, talking, playing cards, drinking. They usually only stayed for a day or two and you were thrilled that this time they had stayed longer, that no cases had come up to drag them away, but all the fun had left little time for chores or orderliness and it was starting to show.

“Really?” You asked. They both looked at you as if they were slightly offended.

“What, you don’t think we can help around the house?” Sam asked, still sloth-like where he sat, but tilting his head at you with a furrowed brow.

“No, I know you can, I just….I’d never ask you to. You guys are my guests.”

“Well, yeah, but…..I mean, we’re here so often that we’re not really ‘guests’. And we helped make the mess…we can help tidy it up.” He was sat on the other side of the couch, not as much a part of the furniture as Sam but he still looked relaxed as he leaned against the arm rest, lifting the lid of the pizza box on the floor with his toes to try and slyly see if there was a stray slice that had been fortuitously left behind. Disappointment flooded his face when he saw there wasn’t.

“Oh…well, OK….thanks….but you, Sam?”

He doubled down on the look of confused indignation before it changed into one of incredulity.

“What? You don’t think I can help?”

Oh God. He actually looked genuinely offended.

“No. No! That’s not what I’m saying…..I just meant….well, Dean likes doing stuff around the place…like when he mows the lawn or put up the shelves…” You looked at Dean who was suddenly grinning with pride. “You’re more…..cerebral….more head than hands y’know? Like when you helped me with all the internet stuff I couldn’t figure out….or, or…when you taught me how to research faster…”

Now they were both looking at you like you’d wounded them.

“Wait, so he’s smart and I’m…..just good with my hands?” You watched as Dean heard himself and went from offense to kind of liking the idea of being good with his hands, eyebrows lifting as he considered how he felt about it before shifting back into outrage. “Hey, I read.” He said, eyes narrowing, “I know stuff.”

“And what…I’m book smart but can’t do practical stuff? Physical stuff? I’m good with my hands! I fixed you’re A/C!” He was sat forward now and had put his hands out to emphasise his point. His big man paws flexing in indignation.

This whole conversation was spiralling out of control.

“No! No….that…that all came out wrong. You are both really smart and really able physically….very…good with your hands.” Was it just you or was that phrase starting to sound dirty? “Look….I just meant….you’re hunters….you are both obviously incredibly physically gifted…I’ve seen you guys do what you do and seriously, mind blown….” They both looked slightly mollified by your statement, “…but chores and errands? I just didn’t think that would be a good use of your….skills.”

You loved them so much but it made you smile slightly how despite being such amazing people and great friends that at heart they were both still men, and still had egos that were easily wounded and needed stroking. You carried on, wanting to fully explain yourself.

“Dean…I know you are smart…super smart…I know that, I’ve spoken to you enough and been around you enough to know that….” He shrugged as if he didn’t care either way, but the little uplift in the corner of his mouth showed that he did. “…and Sam…of course you are all kinds of physically gifted…” He looked a little embarrassed but also flattered as he cleared his throat and gave you a hesitant little smile, “Dean just seemed to like doing that stuff before. Please don’t take it as any kind of criticism or judgement…I just thought tidying and dusting and stuff like that was…a waste of both your talents…that’s all. Really.”

Sam rose to his feet hastily and clapped his hands together as Dean made to get up too, newly invigorated. You realised that somehow, albeit accidentally, you had motivated them both by triggering their stubborn defiant sides, the sides that said ‘We’ll show you’.

Sam looked at you, eyebrows raised. “Trash Bags?” He asked.

.

You were in the car with Dean, driving to the supermarket.

“You know….I really do think you’re smart. And that Sam can do brawny things. You’re both amazing. I really do know there is nothing you guys can’t do.”

“Yeah.” He said, but it was slightly dismissive.

“No…Dean….I need you to know that that’s really what I think. Really.”

He shifted his eyes briefly, from the road to you and smiled, genuinely so you knew he heard you. “I know.” He said. “We just….we never really had a chance to do ‘normal’. I think that’s why I liked mowing your lawn and putting up those shelves. Well…that and the tool belt.”

He smiled, nodding. You remembered that he had brought a tool belt that day and he’d looked so happy to be wearing it. ‘Ahhhh? Ahhh?’ He’d said, eyes wide as he proudly motioned at it with a ‘it’s good,right?’ smile on his face, like it was the best and most impressive thing you were ever likely to see.

“The stuff other people do…jobs round the house and stuff…we never had a house growing up…and it all seems like part of a ‘normal’ life…and it’s still very different from how we live in the bunker…and on the road…chopping the heads off vamps and gankin’ werewolves…it’s nice to have the chance to do stuff like that every now and again.”

“I guess the grass really is greener on the other side of the fence.” You said, understanding how they must feel but struggling to reconcile chores as anything but a necessary evil.

“It is the way I mow it.” He said, pride in his voice.

.

You walked around the store with Dean pushing the cart. You were planning on just getting some essentials but then he started adding things that were not on the list you had hurriedly scribbled when he’d gone to get his jacket. Not that you minded at all but you noticed.

“Um….that’s an awful lot of meat and cheese….” You said, eyeing the contents of the cart suspiciously.

“Oh yeah, I’m cooking tonight. You’re in for a treat…we’re having Winchester Surprise.”

“Oooohhh……” You said, curious and, if you were honest, slightly worried.

“It’s good.” He said, reassuringly. “I promise.” And he smiled at you in such a way that you couldn’t help but believe him. Then he looked around trying to figure out where they kept the pie.

.

When you got back to your place, you were not expecting the sight that awaited you. Although most of the clutter from earlier was gone, in its place were an array of cleaning products, you hadn’t even know you had that many but clearly Sam had thoroughly searched the whole house and found everything that anyone could conceivably use to clean. There were dusters and cloths, a broom, a dustpan and brush, a mop…..The vacuum cleaner was plugged in with attachments you had forgotten it had, scattered around it. The radio was on and loud, presently playing ‘Sweet Home Alabama’, and in the corner of the room was Sam, precariously balanced on a chair that you weren’t sure how hadn’t been reduced to kindling under the sheer mass of him, sweeping at the corner of the ceiling with a feather duster. There was something about the size of him and his overwhelming brute force slightly moving to the music and adding a graceful flourish to each sweep of the duster that made you grin so big your cheeks hurt. As Dean followed you in, he didn’t smile so much as looked thoroughly disconcerted.

“Hey! Mrs Doubtfire! We’re back.”

Sam turned around, slightly taken aback and totally unaware of how adorably funny he looked.

“Oh hey, guys.” He said, smiling. “So I already did the most of the other rooms, I didn’t want to go in your room….” He said, looking at you, “…I thought that might be weird…but I’ve done everywhere else except the kitchen.” He looked proud but also like he was hoping you’d be impressed, eager to show you how good he’d done, a little like a kid showing off the thing they made at school.

“Wow! Sam…that’s incredible. You didn’t have to do such a great job….you could have just taken out the empties and straightened the rug…” You walked over to him and motioned for him to come down off the chair. As he did so, you reached up and gave him a hug and kissed him on the cheek. He looked pleased but embarrassed.

“It was nothing….” He said, smiling as his cheeks grew warm.

“No. It wasn’t. It was something.” You said.

“Oh…and your waste disposal was being weird so I took a look at it and you know…I fixed it. It shouldn’t give you any problems now.” He said, nodding his head and trying to look nonchalant.

“What?” You asked, slightly shocked. The waste disposal had always been slightly on the fritz, pretty much since you’d moved in, you were so used to it you hadn’t even thought to mention it to Dean when he’d been looking for odd jobs to do after he’d put up the shelves.

Sam shrugged as if it was nothing.

“Did you touch my tool belt?” Dean said, territorial and annoyed at the thought.

“There’s a tool belt?” Sam asked, as if he’d been cheated out of a toy on Christmas morning.

You laughed despite yourself. “OK, OK guys…you are being awesome…and I appreciate it but honestly…you’ve done so much…why don’t you go sit in the yard and have a beer and I’ll finish off with the tidying and stuff…you said it was just the kitchen left, right? Well, I’ll do that…honestly, you’ve done so much….thank you.”

“What? No.” said Dean, leaving the room. “I’m gonna go put the groceries away and then I’m already in the kitchen so I’ll make a start in there.”

“And I just put a load of laundry on.” Sam said before turning to you and continuing, “Like I said, I didn’t want to go in your room and I thought it might be weird if got your….” He motioned uncomfortably as he tried and failed to find the right words.

“Underwear?” You suggested.

“Right.” He said, relieved that you had said it, “…I thought it might be weird if I got your…those…out of your laundry basket…so I didn’t. I just put some stuff of Dean’s and mine in the machine and you’d left some stuff around…just like, a sweatshirt and a cardigan…a few other things…so I added those. Don’t worry…I checked the labels and there were no whites so nothing should run.”

You looked at him, touched at what an utter sweetheart he was being. You needed to say to him what you’d said to Dean earlier.

“Sam…you know what I said before…you know that I know you can do stuff, right?”

He crossed his arms and nodded, he smiled but he was looking downwards slightly as he said, “Yeah, of course, I know that.”

“No. Sam. Look at me.” You said, deliberately moving into his eye line, “I really need you to know that I know that as smart as you are, and I do know how smart you are, Stanford boy, that you can do other things too…fix things, make things, that you’re really good at physical things…OK, that sounded weird but you know what I mean…”

He laughed.

“…please, believe me when I say that I just meant, with all your intellect and all your strength and…I mean, come on…the way you hunt…I know what you can do…I just didn’t think all your many skills would be best used to you know….” You motioned to the feather duster still in his hand. “…and clearly, I was wrong.”

He looked at you and smiled, but this time the smile was so wide his dimples came out and you felt like he’d heard what you were trying to say.

“It’s cool, Y/N. We’re good.” He said, putting his arm around you, “I’ll put all this stuff away. You go check on Dean….maybe give that waste disposal a whirl?” You gave him a squeeze and left, hearing him say quietly to himself, “Can’t believe there was a tool belt….” as you walked out the door.

.

You handed the wet plate to Dean, who dried it and put it away in the cupboard, as you watched Sam, through the window, hanging the laundry on the line with care. It was the last of the dishes so you squeezed detergent into the empty basin and cleaned the sink itself. You were pretty sure your house would be cleaner after today than it had ever been. The radio kept on playing.

It played ‘Back in Black’ as you washed the sink and Dean cleaned the counter tops. It was still playing as Sam came in and announced he’d clean the oven.

“What? You don’t have to do that! Even I don’t do that.” You said.

“Well…then it’ll be really gross and probably really needs doing.” He’d said, which to be fair was faultless logic. This hadn’t really been what you’d imagined when you’d brought up tidying this morning but weirdly, it was ending up being quite fun.

‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ played as Sam scrubbed away, head in the oven. Dean pulled a face, as if he wasn’t a fan of the song but it was obvious that he secretly liked it, and before the chorus you were all singing along. You, as you filled a bucket so you could mop the floor and Dean as he started preparing dinner and Sam, from the confines of the open oven which was giving him some pretty impressive acoustics.

And so it went, eventually the whole place was spotless and you were just helping Dean with dinner while Sam was setting the table. As the music changed from Black Sabbath to Styx to Guns n Roses to The Who, it got later and before long Sam was bringing in the dry clothes from the line outside.

“You sure they aren’t still damp?” You asked.

“Hey….the sun was strong today…and no backseat laundry-ing!” He said, giving you a look.

“Yep. No. Sorry.” You said, going over to where he was starting to fold the clothes. “I can help though right? If I stay away from your……”

“Underwear?” He offered, smiling. “Yeah, alright.”

You smiled as you passed him the beer, you’d opened for him, and grabbed a t shirt to fold.

.

Dean pulled out the steaming dish from the oven that had been so spotless only a short while ago. He looked adorable as he placed it on the heat resistant mat in the middle of the table, pot holders on his hands and his face full of pride.

“It smells really good!” You said and you weren’t being nice, it really did.

“Winchester Surprise.” He said, shaking his head, proud and happy. He dug into it with a serving spoon and dished out for you and then Sam and then for himself.

“Mmmmmmm.” You let out an involuntary and contented noise when you tasted the first mouthful, “Oh my God! It’s soooo good! Thank you for this Dean.”

He nodded his head as if it was nothing and took a sip from his beer.

“Thank you too, Sam. Today has been so much fun….which, y’know…chores aren’t, generally. And you’ve both worked so hard and my waste disposal works…and….” You didn’t want to get too emotional but really you wanted to tell them that you’d ended up having the best day, that you were touched by how hard they’d worked and that you loved them, not just because of today, but because they were great and their friendship meant everything, but instead you said, “…who knew the best hunters the world has ever seen, the guys who save the world, could cook and clean so well?” And you lifted your beer to them both.

“I don’t know…it was kinda fun.” Sam said and Dean looked at you pointedly, as if to say ‘See, this is what I was talking about. For us normal is fun.’

He winked at him and reached out to squeeze his hand to show him you understood.

And as he let out a “Yeah!” because Zeppelin started playing and Sam asked if you wanted to play cards again later and you swallowed another bite of Winchester Surprise….you had to admit, that with these guys…it kind of was.


End file.
